


Those All Seem Kind of Related

by RiaZendira



Category: NCIS, White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:42:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaZendira/pseuds/RiaZendira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The NCIS and White Collar investigations intersect and they have to deal with each other. It's a good thing too, because Tony hasn't seen Neal in years and they're really due for some catching up.</p><p>Written for Help Japan for dameange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those All Seem Kind of Related

“Tony!” Very Special agent Anthony DiNozzo’s head whipped around, his gaze seeking out who had just called his name. Looking over the pile of dirt next to him, past the half-blown-away rubble of former brick wall, to the small cluster of approaching FBI personnel, Tony spotted a dark-haired, stylishly attired man amongst the usual FBI rabble. 

“Who the heck are -- NEAL?” Tony returned, an incredulous note coloring his tone. 

“The one and only,” the smirking man replied. He was comically overdressed for the blasted-out surroundings of the crime scene.  

“In the flesh and well dressed. Wow.” Tony paused, shifting his footing on the choppy concrete so that he could hop a few steps closer to Neal. He leapt easily over the uneven surface that had been a decorative walkway and stopped just short of the four FBI windbreaker-clad people and Neal. 

“Hi! Long time no see... like it’s been years, long.” Tony commented brightly. “Whatcha doing at my crime scene?” He smiled at Neal. 

“Don’t let Gibbs hear you call it that.” Tony turned and gestured behind him at the man who’d just spoken.

“Allow me to introduce you to NCIS Agent Timothy McGee.” Tony paused to glare slightly at the man in question. “He’s a little mouthy, but we like him anyway.” Tony turned his focus to McGee. “McGeek-- Gibbs’ crime scene is my crime scene is our crime scene.” He lowered his voice to a whispered hiss, “Is    
not   
the FBI’s crime scene,” he finished. 

“Tony--” McGee began, only to be interrupted.

“Still don’t play well with others, I see.” Neal observed, standing with his hands in the pockets of an expensive-looking wool coat, his smirk turned up another notch. 

“Hey! I do too play well with others--” Tony rushed to counter, “I play just fine with others. With whoever I want to. It’s Gibbs who doesn’t play well with others.” He paused, head tilted to one side. “Or with anyone, really,” he admitted. There was a long tense pause. Tony contemplated the expressions on the faces of the four men and the one woman in front of him, and caught McGee’s eye with his peripheral vision. 

“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”  Tony’s shoulders hunched in anticipation. 

“Yep.” Gibbs answered. The reply was swiftly followed by a sharp, but relatively gentle, smack to the back of Tony’s head. Gibbs moved to step forward, shoulder to shoulder with Tony. 

“DiNozzo’s right, though. It’s an NCIS crime scene.” Gibbs offered bluntly. Tony smirked. McGee scowled. 

The stern-faced taller man next to Neal scoffed and furrowed his brow. Neal glanced at him, smile firmly in place. The man stared back. An exchange involving complex eyebrow sign language took place for a moment. It ended with the FBI agent throwing his hands in the air. 

“Fine, steal me a crime scene, I don’t care anymore,” he muttered, spinning on his heel and gesturing for the other FBI agents to follow him as he walked away. 

“Oh sure, give the game away completely! Thanks, Peter!” Neal called at the man’s retreating back.

“So... not exactly an FBI    
agent   
then, huh Neal?” Tony inquired archly.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Tony and Neal compared notes, seated at a bar they’d chosen more for its proximity to the crime scene where they had spent all day at than any of its other possible redeeming features. The dingy carpeting and the sticky bar top reminded Tony of cheap dive bars he’d frequented during his college years. The multiple enclosed corners and the loud darts game taking place under the questionable lighting reminded Neal of many a bar where he’d met a contact, or during some of the lower points of his career, picked pockets or hustled pool. Both men slumped casually on stools at the bar proper, a small pile-up of beer bottles and shot glasses at their elbows.  

“When Gibbs did the thing like he was going to just try and glare Peter into submission -- which doesn’t actually work, you realize -- puppy dog eyes are the only thing I’ve found that seems to make a dent--” 

“Which do NOT work on Gibbs, let me tell you!” Tony interjected, his head falling forward.  “Nothing works on Gibbs...” he mumbled into the circle of his crossed arms. 

“Aww, poor Tony.” Neal consoled as he idly flipped his hat from hand to hand. “Always the agent, never the bride. You know, I think you’d have more fun if you’d gone con. You would have made a great conman--” 

“If you say ‘just like your old man’ I will end you, Neal, cousin or not,” Tony grumbled.

“At least I’m getting laid.” Neal boasted, returning his hat to his head with a final flourish of his fingers. 

Tony turned his head sharply and peered up at Neal. “You are not!” He shifted back on his stool. “There is no way you are getting laid with that ball and chain around your foot. Chicks do not dig guys packing ankle hardware. At least -- not the ones with class.” Tony put one hand to his chest and gasped comically. “Neal! I thought you had better taste than that!” 

Neal quirked one side of his lips up in half a smile, lifted his eyebrow in silent commentary and opened his mouth to reply when a disgruntled voice broke into their conversation.

“Watch it, DiNozzo, that’s my wife you’re talking about.” Neal’s eyes darted to the side and caught Peter’s gaze, his smile fond. 

“No way. No way!” Tony was leaned against the bar, looking back and forth between Peter and Neal. “No way,” he repeated. While he’d gotten to know Peter some during the events of the day’s shared crime scene, he still wouldn’t have expected the man to have an open relationship with his wife. 

“Way.” Neal deadpanned, smile turning smug. The man had more smug smiles than any one person had a right to, Tony thought. 

“How -- but -- Neal!” Tony’s shock wasn’t feigned this time as he gasped. Neal’s smile was too smug -- he wasn’t just sleeping with Peter’s wife. 

Tony picked up his drink and chugged the rest of it, slamming the glass back down on the bar, his forehead following a second behind with a slightly more gentle impact. He was spending a lot of time mumbling into his crossed arms, but he didn’t let that stop him from letting out an aggravated, “You’re sleeping with both of them. That is so not fair.” Neal only raised an eyebrow in confirmation. 

Tony plunked his head back down onto the bar and brought the still-cold glass to rest against his forehead. He contemplated where he could possibly have gone wrong with his life that he was worse off than his conman cousin even though he’d spent his whole life trying to do the right thing. He glanced at Neal to find him having a half-whispered, half-eyebrow telepathy discussion with Peter. 

“I can’ even get one federal agent to sleep with me, and you’ve got one plus ’is wife -- not that the one I want has a wife -- but still. Dammit, Neal, no fair.” He grumbled to himself. 

Peter clapped Tony on the back sympathetically.  "Well, life's not fair. If it's any consolation, Neal’s still got that ankle hardware that you don’t. We have to get going now, we’ve got a long drive back North."

Neal cut in.  "Should we call you a cab?" He exchanged a concerned look with Peter. Tony looked like those last shots had actually finally hit him.  

"S'fine.  You go off and have your torrid affair.  I'm jus' gonna stay here.  All alone."  Tony left his head on his arms this time. It was feeling heavy, for some reason.

Neal and Peter had another silent discussion via facial expressions. Peter started toward the door, as Neal shook his head and sighed. He brought his hand up to pat Tony’s back. Tony mumbled something unintelligible in response.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Neal leaned forward, bringing his ear closer to Tony’s mouth.

“I said, ‘I hate Rule 12!’” Tony announced to the bar at large, his voice drunkenly loud. He turned his head to look directly at Neal and froze, his gaze caught on something over Neal’s shoulder. Neal spun around to see what had caused Tony to suddenly pale. 

“Oh... hi boss.” Tony squeaked. 

Gibbs stared impassively back at Tony in response, the Leroy Jethro Gibbs version of mildly stunned. Peter stood a stride behind him, looking confused by the sudden tension between the two men. Neal deftly slid closer to him, signaling Peter to move towards the door with his eyes. 

“Back away, slowly.” Neal whispered, his lips barely moving, when he reached Peter. The FBI agent and his conman quietly fled the bar. 

Just as they swept through the doorway, Neal smirked another in his endless repertoire of smug smiles and said “I think I just stole my cousin a boyfriend...”

“Neal!” Peter admonished. “You can not steal someone a --” 

“Why not? I stole you, didn’t I?” And then they were gone.

At the bar, Tony and Jethro faced each other in a silent game of chicken. Tony broke a half a second before Gibbs.

“Boss, I uh --”

“You pay your tab yet, DiNozzo?” 

“Ah, yeah?” Tony glanced over his shoulder at the bar. The bartender nodded at him from where she stood a polite -- but obviously entranced -- distance away, watching their interaction.

“Well come on then. I’m taking you home.” Gibbs jerked his head towards the door. Tony scrambled to his feet to follow. 

“Uh... boss? About the ‘I hate Rule 12’ thing --”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, when you’re sober, Tony.” Gibbs replied, holding out a hand to steady Tony’s slightly meandering walk. His eyes conveyed the smile that didn’t quite grace his lips as he met Tony’s gaze and said softly, “I figure we’ve got a few rules to talk about -- I haven’t told you about the exceptions.”

Tony came to a sudden halt. “There are exceptions to ‘The Rules’?” Gibbs broke rules all the time -- but never his own, Tony had thought. Maybe it wasn't actually 'breaking' if the exceptions were part of ‘The Rules’?

Gibbs gently brought a hand up to stroke the back of Tony’s head, then settled his arm just below Tony’s shoulders, ready to support him if he stumbled again.

“Sometimes... when it’s worth it. Come on, DiNozzo. Home.” The two NCIS agents disappeared into the night. 

In the empty bar, the bartender brushed a damp off-white rag across the sticky bar and just smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at: http://riazendira.dreamwidth.org/62464.html where more author's notes are available.


End file.
